Tangled Vows of Fire

Chapter 1: Midnight Reckoning

The air in the grand foyer of our estate was thick with unspoken accusations as I stepped through the door, the silk of my crimson dress clinging to my skin like a second lover. Maxwell stood there, his chiseled jaw tight, eyes burning with a fury that could ignite the very marble beneath us. 'Answer me, Amelia. Where are you coming from, dressed like that?' His gaze raked over me, lingering on every curve as if he could strip me bare with a look alone.

I smirked, stepping closer, the heat of his presence already sparking something dangerous low in my belly. 'None of your damn business,' I hissed, though my voice faltered as his thigh nudged between mine, a deliberate tease that sent a jolt of fire through me. 'You don’t get to play the jealous husband while Camilla’s been warming your lap.'

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing. 'You’re married to me, Amelia. Only I have a right to this body. Do you understand?' His voice was a low growl, vibrating through the space between us.

I laughed, sharp and biting, running a hand through my tousled hair as if I’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed. 'Oh, I didn’t realize the rules were so strict, dearest husband. But if you’re fucking around, I’ll be mirroring every damn move. Equal opportunity, right?'

His hand slammed against the wall behind me, caging me in, his breath hot on my neck. 'I’ll suggest you pick up that contract and read the fine print. Come home late again, and you’ll be sleeping outside. The guards won’t even open the gate for you.'

I tilted my head, a wicked smile curling my lips. 'Fine by me. I’ll just bring him home next time. Lock the doors all you want—it’s a win for us.' My words dripped with defiance, and I saw the flash of raw anger in his eyes.

'Are you jealous?' I taunted, my voice a sultry whisper as I leaned into him, daring him to snap.

He sighed, a smirk tugging at his infuriatingly perfect mouth, his hand sliding up my hip with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. 'Jealous? I’m not the one who stormed out like a scorned lover to find some cheap thrill. Bet you were thinking of me while he touched you.' His lips hovered over mine, his breath a scorching tease. 'Just a second of my touch, and you’re already wet, aren’t you?'

I bit my lip, fighting the wave of need crashing through me. Five years without real sex had left me fucking horny, my body betraying my mind. 'Don’t act like you’re not dying to get your hands on me every chance you get,' I shot back, my voice low and laced with venom. 'I bet you fucked Camilla with my face in your head.'

'Beg me,' he rasped, his voice hoarse and dripping with sex. 'Beg me to give you what you’re craving right now.'

I batted my lashes, leaning in so close our lips nearly brushed. 'Please, I beg you… to fuck off.' I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge an inch.

'We’ll see about that,' he growled, and before I could throw another barb, his mouth crashed into mine, hungry and demanding. I should’ve slapped him, should’ve walked away, but instead, I kissed him back, our tongues battling for dominance in a war neither of us could win. The taste of him—whiskey and sin—sent my senses reeling, and I hated how much I wanted more.

We broke apart, gasping for air, his hands pinning mine above my head against the wall. His mouth attacked my neck, kissing and sucking with a ferocity that made me moan his name. 'Max…' The sound slipped out, raw and needy, and it seemed to drive him over the edge.

This was just the beginning, and I knew as his hands roamed lower, tearing at the fabric of my dress, that we were about to combust—and I wasn’t sure I’d survive the flames.